The Radio Boys on the Mexican Border eBook

“Almost forgot this,” he said. “Your
tellin’ me about that there scoundrel of a Greaser
put everything else out o’ my mind. Must
be gittin old an’ forgetful. One o’
these days I’ll forgit my head.”

He would have rambled on garrulously, but Jack interrupted.
He turned the envelope over curiously. It bore
no address or writing of any kind, and was sealed.

“What’s this for, Pete?” Jack inquired.

“Oh, that’s somethin’ Mr. Rollins
musta dropped out o’ his pocket at breakfast.
Found it on the floor beside his chair after he was
gone. Will you give it to him?”

“All right.”

Jack returned to join his companions.

“Have we any right to open this?” he said,
after explaining how he had obtained the envelope.
“I for one believe that we should. It may
contain valuable information to us.”

“You’re right, Jack,” said Mr. Temple.
“I’m a partner in this oil enterprise,
and if one of our trusted employees is a scoundrel
we are entitled to know it. Give me the envelope.
I’ll take the responsibility.”

While the others looked on, Mr. Temple ran a knife
along the edge and slit the envelope open. Inside
was a mass of documents and a letter. Mr. Temple
unfolded them, gave one look, then with an exclamation
jumped to his feet.

“Great Scott, boys,” he cried. “This
is important. Luck is certainly with us.”

CHAPTER XIV

THE KEY TO THE MYSTERY

“What is it?” cried Jack, pressing forward.

“Yes, tell us,” demanded Bob and Frank
as in one breath.

The three boys crowded around Mr. Temple, who in one
hand held the mass of documents and in the other the
letter. He was reading the latter.

“Boys,” said he, “this proves Rollins’s
complicity in a plot against us. But it makes
matters more puzzling and complicated, too.”

“How is that, sir?” Jack inquired.

“Well, first of all,” said Mr. Temple,
holding up the thick sheaf of papers, “this
is Mr. Hampton’s own original list of the leases
secured by the group of independent oil operators
to which I belong and which he represents here in
the field.”

“Is it a copy of the list I recovered from the
thief who stole it from Mr. Hampton’s house
on Long Island?” asked Bob.

“No,” smiled Mr. Temple. “It
is the original. That was the copy. And
this letter with it is one written by Rollins to a
man in New York City who is one of the minor officials
of the Oil Trust. It is too long to read to you.
But from it I gather that Rollins is a spy in the
employ of this official.”

“Say, Dad,” declared Bob, “this
is too much for me. If the Octopus is responsible
for our troubles, then where do the Mexicans come in?
And vice versa?”

“That’s what I had in mind, Bob, when
I said this discovery complicated matters,”
said Mr. Temple.

“Sh,” warned Jack, from the window toward
which he was glancing at that moment. He sprang
forward to see better. “Here comes Mr. Rollins
now. And in a tearing hurry, too.”